Archive for June, 2015

Today’s podcast is about health in the smart phone age. I am health conscious but in a very practical way. Some people waste valuable time twiddling their thumbs. In these days of texting and such, I feel it’s better to strengthen my texting fingers rather than my biceps. So when I have twiddle time, I twiddle my index fingers. And when I watch newscasts about what Congress is doing, I often twiddle my middle fingers, so they’ll be ready for use on election day. I call that practical exercising.

In today’s podcast, I was trying to explain that it’s going to take more than a squadron of black helicopters full federal smart guys in white lab coats to pry my chair off my beautiful, beleaguered, backside. Well, maybe beautiful is a little too strong a word to describe my backside. I’ve never really seen my backside, but when I was young I couldn’t help notice that several young ladies seemed to approve of mine almost as much as I approved of theirs. Back all those years ago when I was a beach lifeguard at Coney Island, I considered it to be my civic duty to parade my backside down the beach for the girls to admire at least once a day. I was a very successful competitive swimmer in those days. I did the 100 meter butterfly. The way you become successful swimming the butterfly stroke, is not minding that there is one more lap of pulling your arms up over your back and out of their sockets.

In today’s podcast, they’re telling me I shouldn’t be sitting here in my big, manly, comfortable black leather poppa chair in my living room, and I’m not going to stand for that. The smart guys in the white lab coats are telling me that sitting is one of the worst things I can do to myself. They’re implying that sitting is a reckless act of self-destruction. They say it’s worse than smoking, and of course smoking kills people. I think they’re a little off base with that one too. I don’t think smoking is responsible for killing nearly as many people as the people who are trying to quit smoking are responsible for killing people. I am a reasonably healthy guy. As I told you in my book, Staying Happy Healthy And Hot, I get up early most mornings, and I go up-down, up-down, up-down. Now the other eye lid. Then I go for a good, long, brisk, sit…here in my big, comfortable, black leather poppa chair in my living room. I like sitting here.

As I told you in my book Staying Happy Healthy And Hot, Louie Louie Generation guys understand that we don’t understand almost anything about women. But we have found out a few things to avoid in moments of approaching passion. For example, women will think you’re too nervous if they notice that you’re removing your socks by violently shaking your feet. On the other hand, they don’t expect you to hang up your clothes and insert shoe trees either. It’s vital to remember that foreplay means more than lighting a cigar and ordering out for pizza. But most important, we’ve been around long enough to be glad that “There’s no such thing as a hopeless romantic, because hope is the power that keeps a romance alive.” And we don’t care what other people think, we like being romantic. We also know that it’s wise to avoid hypnotists who stutter, dentists with sound proof offices, and therapists who zoom around their waiting room singing “I’ve got to be me.”

I was telling you about the eye flash and shoulder flip my my Lady Wonder Wench gave me a long time ago in today’s podcast. At that time she was a menace to pedestrians, because she often caused lots of people to be run over by cars driven by guys who found themselves running up on sidewalks because they were paying too much attention to watching her crossing at the stop light. When I saw that flash in her eyes, and that flip of her shoulder, my hormones started howling a song called, “Do not let this one get away.” It was very confusing. So there’s not one Louie Louie Generation guy who won’t understand why I immediately stretched forth my hand from the mountaintop where I’d suddenly found myself standing when she flicked her shoulder and flashed those baby blues. That outstretched hand should have had something in it to convince her to day…a diamond ring, the keys to a Cadillac…or at least a couple of M&Ms. But it didn’t. I had nothing to give her.

This is a typical Pimple Person Date. It’s nothing like a romance between Louie-Louie Generation guys and girls. As I tried to explain in today’s podcast Louie-Louie lads know we don’t really know much about women, but we also know “There’s no such thing as a hopeless romantic, because hope is the power that keeps a romance alive.” And we like being romantic whether other guys approve or not. And a lot of them don’t because they’re afraid of what their buddies will think of them. Frankly, we don’t care. We love romancing our women. We also understand that “Bodies are much more honest than words.” My Lady Wonder Wench taught me that last one with just a flash of her eyes and a small flip of her left shoulder. It was on the night when I first met her, a very long time ago. All I did was say, “Hello.” If I weren’t watching closely I’d have missed it. Her eyes flashed for an instant, and her left shoulder did a little flip. She couldn’t possibly have done it on purpose. It happened too fast. It was an unguarded instant of truth. My God, do you women have any idea what that kind of thing can do to a man? It was an absolutely honest, unreasoned, out-of-control statement. It said, “You turn me on.” It would have even knocked a guy like George Clooney out of his socks.

As you know from today’s podcast. Louie Louie Generation guys are the bedmates of choice of supermodels, lovely, lusty lady chief executives, and Catherine Zeta Jones look-alikes. That’s because we treat our women with lots of love and lots of lovely lust, we have some pretty good life stories to tell, and many of us have paid off our nice cars and sometimes even our boats and private airplanes.” I know that’s true because it says it on page 2 of my book “Staying Happy Healthy And Hot.” Louie Louie Generation guys know lots of things about living with women that the Pimple People guys won’t bother to learn, and the Dreary Drones have long forgotten. For example, women are smarter than men. That’s why not many women marry a man because he has good legs or looks good in a sweater.

President Obama said “Nigger” and the sky did not fall. It’s about time. Time to grow up group. Time to face down racism and get over it. We’ve been afraid to do that for a long time. But there are some things more important than fear, and this is one of them. “United we stand.” Until we get over this, we won’t be united.

I fly a small airplane. One of the joys of flying a plane here in the northeast corridor is that we use very clear words with air traffic control. When an ATC guy says, “No delay, immediate right turn to three six zero degrees!” that gets your attention. That happened to me the other day. So I flicked the auto pilot off… and turned that control wheel over hard… and I watched the compass spin up till we were at about 345 degrees…then I eased her the rest of the way till it said N for north…just like the man said. A moment later a big jet flashed by pretty close to where I would have been if the controller hadn’t called the turn. I flicked the mike and said “thanks.” And believe me, I meant it. Pilots around here call that a “Linda Rondstadt” because Linda had a big hit called “Blue Bayou”…as in “that jet just blew by you.” I flicked the auto pilot back on to catch my breath for a moment and I realized… I was looking at an “N word.” There’s no 360 degrees on an airplane compass. Just the letter N. It means North. That’s one of flyings more important N words.

There are lots of “N words”…which means there is no such thing as “THE N word.” I hate it when Lester Holt is discussing some really serious race relations story, by saying “So and so said ‘The N word.” Some idiot long ago couldn’t spell the word “Niger”, so we got the word “nigger”… which became a word other idiots have used to describe people with brown and black skin…like Cecelia, the beautiful and priceless newest member of my family. Actually Cecelia has been watching a video of the story called Rapunzil, and she wants to be called Princess Cecelia these days. And Grandma Lady Wonder Wench enthusiastically encourages that.

Let’s get real. “The N word” doesn’t mean anything. Say what you mean. “Nigger” is a word that cuts. It’s the result of a stupid guy who couldn’t spell, it’s outrageously disrespectful, and it hurts. And that means something…it tells you something…something ugly… something that won’t go away if you stick your head in the sand. So deal with it. It hurts. The phrase “The N word” doesn’t hurt… because there IS no such thing as “THE… N WORD.” It has no real meaning. There’s a dictionary full of “N words.” How about Nice, Nude, Naked (I like that one), Nabob, Naah, Nana, Nail, Native, Nose…etc. There is no marking on my airplane compass for 360 degrees. There’s just the letter N. It means North. When that jet was bearing down on my little plane, the controller said “turn north.” That meant something. If he had said “turn to the N word”… the only response I’d have had is…”HUH?” “Do you want me to turn naked nicely like a nabob with a nana who has long nails…naaah, that can’t be… do you want me to fly my plane up your nose?” By the time I got if figured out, I’d have been toasting marshmallows on the jet guy’s after burner.

And while we’re at it, there is no such thing as an “African American,” any more than there is a “European American.” “African American” means absolutely nothing. You African? Okay. You European? Okay. You American? Also okay. Africa is a continent. America is a continent. Europe is a continent. Three different continents. Lots of water in between.

Let’s get a grip. When that controller called the traffic, I put both hands on that control wheel and put some muscle into that bank…fast. It happened, as they say, with “no delay.” The lesson ? Let’s cut the silly stuff that doesn’t mean anything…now. We’ve got important things to worry about in this country. Let it be the exclusive concern of our very capable American Association of Interior Decorators to worry about how and if brown, black, white, pink, yellow and red can work together…. what do you care? Get up off your black, brown white, pink, yellow or red fannies and get a grip on the things that count. And DO something about them.

Watch the news reports, including the ones from the BBC and other foreign sources so you know what other people are really saying about us…read the paper…learn what’s going on…make a note of which politicians don’t really answer the tough questions…tell your friends who they are, then vote them out of office. Raise hell on talk radio, and write e-mails to the politicians… and demand an answer from them by phone if they ignore you. Know what’s really going on…THINK.

And whatever you do, please remember this quote. It’s from Adolph Hitler…and these are his exact words: “How fortunate for those of us who rule, that the people don’t think.” SO THINK. THEN get up off your multi-colored butts and DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT

Some important stuff about Louie-Louie Generation guys in today’s podcast. For example: “There’s no such thing as a hopeless romantic.” We know that from personal experience because we’re comfortable being powerful guys, and we understand and respect and enjoy our personal power. And that’s why we’re not afraid of the power of a happy, sweaty, lusty love. We know that hope is the power that keeps a romance alive.” And we like being romantic whether other guys approve or not. And lots of other guys don’t approve. I think most guys are afraid they don’t have enough personal power to deal with what other guys think. So they’re just afraid to admit they have romantic feelings. They call that being “Manly.” I call that being”Chicken.” And like most other Louie Louie Generation guys, I don’t really give a damn what other guys think. Louie Louie Generation guys like to think for ourselves.

Today’s new podcast is about the fact that Louie Louie Generation guys are the bedmates of choice of supermodels, lovely, lusty lady chief executives, and Catherine Zeta Jones look-alikes. That’s because we treat our women with lots of love and lots of lovely lust, we have some pretty good life stories to tell, and many of us have paid off our nice cars and sometimes even our boats and private airplanes.” I know that’s true because it says it on page 2 of my book “Staying Happy Healthy And Hot.” Louie Louie Generation guys know lots of things about living with women that the Pimple People guys won’t bother to learn, and the Dreary Drones have long forgotten. For example, women are smarter than men. That’s why not many women marry a man because he has good legs or looks good in a sweater